Larxene Or Arlene?
by Ghostiness
Summary: What happened in Larxene's life before she became a Nobody and joined the Organization? First fic...please review!


The sounds of a struggle outside her bedroom window awoke Arlene in the early hours of the morning, the bright green numbers of her digital clock reading 3:37 A.M. What a way to start off the day.

Her neighborhood, while not exactly a suburban paradise, was _fairly_ quiet, minus the occasional gang fight or bout of teenage vandalism. This kind of early morning disturbance would have been shrugged off and ignored by a normal inhabitant of the town. But Arlene wasn't exactly "normal." In fact, Arlene had achieved the fitting title of "raging bitch" by her neighbors.

She _wanted_ quiet. She _needed_ sleep. She buried her head in a pillow, turned on the television, and put in a pair of old earplugs that she had conveniently stashed in her bedside table for this kind of situation. However, the noise outside was incapable of being drown out, and she was getting, for lack of a better word, pissed.

Arlene being Arlene, she threw the covers off of her bed with an irritated sigh, crossed the tiny, carpeted room, and thrust the window open with a loud screech.

"Cut the noise, asshole!" she yelled. God, she was starting to sound like an old woman. Last weekend was her 23rd birthday.

The source of the noise was what at first appeared to be a small group of teenagers, three of them, gathered around in a circle underneath Arlene's window. She squinted into the darkness to get a better look at them. They glared back with three pairs of glowing yellow eyes and scattered like cockroaches, leaving behind a fourth person that lay sprawled out on the pavement.

The figure was dimly illuminated by a flickering streetlight and Arlene pondered going to check on the person, until a glance at the clock told her it was nearing 4:00, and she decided against it. After all, she did have to work tomorrow. Still, as she climbed back into the warm, soft sheets of her bed, she couldn't help but think about what had just happened. Who, or rather what, where those _things_? She felt more than a bit frightened and thought about calling the police. Or her mom.

Shaking her head at the thought of calling her _mommy_ and embarrassing herself, Arlene locked her window and bedroom door before slowly drifting back to sleep.

Upon awakening the next morning at the sound of her beeping alarm clock, Arlene proceeded to smash the snooze button, groaning at having to get up and go to work. Five minutes later she was greeted with the same obnoxious beeping sound. Step one of her morning: waking up.

Step two of her morning routine was getting ready, and she sleepily ran a hard-bristled brush through her thick blonde hair, catching every tangle and ripping through them with enough force to bring tears to her green-blue eyes. She dressed herself in a sweater and jeans and grabbed her purse.

As she dragged her feet to the top of the stairs, ready to eat another bland breakfast and rush off to work with less than five minutes to spare, she glanced at the wide-open door of her sister's room. Arlene frowned. Cecelia _never _left her door open. In fact, she made it a priority to close and lock her door because, as Arlene figured, she didn't want her sister to go snooping through her belongings. Why Cecelia distrusted her so much was beyond her. Arlene didn't care too much, though. She hated her sister.

Yawning, the green-eyed girl pulled her car keys off their hook on the wall as she jogged out the door and squinted into the bright morning sunlight. The street outside her house was taken up by an unusual number of cars this morning.

"Great. Traffic is gonna suck," she hissed as she opened her car door.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps behind her made her jump.

"Excuse me," the footsteps belonged to a fat, balding man. He jogged towards her, sweat covering his forehead, and gestured at the small, white house, "is this your residence?"

Arlene crossed her arms in front of her, "Yeah, what's the big deal?"

The man pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at the sweat on his face, still panting.

"I have a few questions for you"

Arlene rolled her eyes. What the hell was this all about? Maybe she was violating some new housing regulation or something. Maybe one of her neighbors was in trouble...again. Regardless, she was going to be late for work. If she got fired today, she would be furious.

She followed him as he led her around the corner. Immediately, she was greeted by a plethora of police cars and yellow "Do Not Cross" tape. Something far more serious was going on.

"Ma'am, did you hear any disturbances last night?"

Arlene stopped cold, "yeah, but I didn't think it was that serious."

"What time?"

"Around 4:00."

"Did you see anyone leaving the scene?"

"I just figured it was some teenagers messing around, that's all," she paused to recall what happened last night. Finally, she asked, "what's going on?"

The bald, fat cop sighed, and his monotone voice dropped.

"Murder. Think it happened around 4:00, according to neighbors. It was pretty brutal. Seems to be a random act. Poor kid." he shook his head solemnly.

Arlene froze. Murder? In this neighborhood? And she bore witness to it. Her mind immediately flashed back to the sight of the person crumpled on the ground last night, dead and motionless under the streetlight.

"Maybe you can help identify the victim. Could have been a neighbor of yours."

The police officer lead her past the caution tape to a group of investigators. They huddled together, each one with a clipboard and box of tools, around a sheet which covered the apparent victim. As they broke through the crowd, the cop pulled the sheet down, revealing the cold (and very much dead), grey-blue eyes of her sister, Cecelia. Arlene thought she was going to be sick as she collapsed to the ground.

The next three weeks of Arlene's life was a blur of funeral planning, flowers, and cards from friends and family.

The head investigator told her on the phone that the murderers covered their tracks so well that the police didn't have a single clue as to who it could have been. It's like they simply vanished into thin air, he said. She had a few choice words for him before she hung up angrily. She may have disliked Cecelia, but Arlene figured that she had the right to know who killed her.

The back seat of her car was filled to the roof with cardboard boxes into which she began packing Cecelia's stuff. Or rather, _crap_. The woman kept _everything_.

As she dragged the last two boxes up the front steps, ready to pass out from exhaustion, she stopped. An overwhelming feeling of uneasiness crept over her and, for some unexplainable reason, she felt like she was being watched. She threw the boxes into the living room and slammed the door behind her, locking the deadbolt.

Sorting through all her sister's belongings took hours, and eventually Arlene lost track of time. Pausing to take a quick break, she checked the time. It was almost 9:00.

The doorbell rang.

_Why would anyone come over this late? _she wondered, slight irritated.

Standing at her doorway, or rather, leaning against it, was her neighbor, Lea.

"Yo," was his only greeting as he sauntered into her living room like he owned the place, flopping down on the couch and picking up the television remote. He ran a hand through his spiky red hair as he lazily flipped through the channels.

"Excuse me!" Arlene hissed, snatching the remote from him. She tossed it aside and placed her hands on her hips. He had some nerve just waltzing right into her house like that.

Lea shrugged, "Relax woman. God, you're so uptight."

Oh, how tempted she was to punch him right now.

"Get out."


End file.
